Meeting with the Principal

Chapter 3

Akira Valmont strolled into the principal’s office, her presence commanding yet disarmingly warm. The room was modest compared to her usual surroundings, but she made herself at home, sitting elegantly across from the principal.

“Miss Valmont,” Principal Tanaka began, a mixture of gratitude and awe in his tone. “I can’t thank you enough for your generous support. Offering to cover the school’s damages and medical expenses for the injured staff and students is more than we could have hoped for.”

Akira offered a soft smile, her crimson hair shimmering as she tilted her head slightly. “Please, Principal Tanaka, there’s no need for formalities. I’m simply doing what I can to help the community.”

The principal nodded, clearly moved. “You’re a blessing, truly. If there’s ever anything I can do to repay your kindness…”

Her smile widened, but her eyes remained sharp, focused. “Actually, there is something you might help me with.”

“Of course,” Tanaka said quickly. “Anything.”

Akira leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into a soft, almost conspiratorial tone. “During my visit to the school earlier, I noticed a student. He seemed… troubled. It concerns me deeply. You see, I have a foundation dedicated to helping young people in need, and I’d like to extend that assistance to him. I just need a little information to get started.”

The principal frowned slightly, shifting in his chair. “Miss Valmont, I appreciate your intentions, but we have a strict policy regarding student privacy.”

“Naturally,” Akira replied smoothly, placing a hand over her heart. “And I wouldn’t dream of asking you to violate any rules. I’m only hoping for enough to reach out and offer support. A name, perhaps? Or a contact detail?”

Tanaka hesitated, glancing at his desk. “I… I understand your concern, but—”

“Please,” Akira interjected gently, her tone laced with genuine compassion. “Principal Tanaka, think of how much good we could do together. A single gesture of trust from you could change this young person’s life. And you know I’m someone who keeps her word.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose there’s no harm in giving you a general idea.”

He swivelled his chair to face the computer, typing in his credentials. The screen flickered to life, and he began scrolling through the student database. Names and faces passed by in a blur as Akira leaned in slightly, her expression unreadable.

“Here we are,” Principal Tanaka murmured, stopping on a page.

“That one,” Akira said softly, pointing to the screen.

The principal squinted at the profile. Zane’s face stared back at him—his dishevelled uniform and indifferent expression a stark contrast to the polished images of his peers.

“Zane?” Tanaka frowned. “He’s not exactly the type of student you’d expect to be interested in. Always late to class, rarely pays attention, and…” He trailed off, unsure of how to frame his next words politely.

“Not the brightest?” Akira offered, her tone light and playful.

Principal Tanaka chuckled awkwardly. “Well…you could say that.”

Akira’s laughter was soft, melodic. “Oh, Principal Tanaka. Sometimes, the ones who seem the most lost are the ones with the most potential. They just need someone to see it in them.”

Tanaka hesitated, glancing at the screen again. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like someone who’d benefit from this sort of attention.”

“On the contrary,” Akira said, her voice dipping into something warmer, almost affectionate. “It’s students like him who remind me why I started my foundation in the first place. Everyone deserves a chance, don’t you think?”

Her words were gentle, but they carried a weight that pressed against him. He sighed, relenting. “I suppose you might be right. If you think you can help him, who am I to stop you?”

“Thank you, Principal Tanaka,” Akira said, her smile brightening. “Your trust means the world to me. And I promise, this will only reflect positively on your school.”

Tanaka nodded, leaning back in his chair as Akira’s gaze lingered on Zane’s profile for a moment longer.